


two and a half

by Bebravenow



Category: Sweet/Vicious (TV)
Genre: F/F, Just a lot of Ophelia Mayer feels, Ophelia introspection, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebravenow/pseuds/Bebravenow
Summary: The loves of Ophelia's life, depressingly few and buried so far down that they're probably compost for her soul by now.





	two and a half

**Author's Note:**

> I had vague plans to finish this only to discover that, upon rereading it, it was already finished! The reveal was bittersweet though as I'm so bummed out about the cancellation. Maybe this sad little thing will help the other Juphelia shippers clinging to the hope of a surprise renewal.

Jules laughs, bright and happy. Ophelia ducks her head behind the fridge door, more to hide her grin than to look at any leftovers she might have forgotten about.

“I need to make it back before Kennedy starts the movie without me!” Jules says, standing up and putting her phone away. Ophelia shuts the fridge and grabs the jacket Jules left on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, of course! Can’t miss the weekly rewatch of Legally Blonde!” Ophelia says as she tosses the jacket over. Jules catches it and, without missing a beat, punches Ophelia’s shoulder, soft enough that it only gives Ophelia a twinge of pain.

“I’ll have you know it’s a documentary,” Jules says.

“On the severely underrepresented difference between Barbie pink and hot pink?” Ophelia says. The punch is stronger this time, causing Ophelia to reel back from the force of it.

“Shut up,” Jules replies, grinning. “I think it’s something about sugar?” Jules opens the door and Ophelia leans against the doorframe, folding her arms and waiting for Jules to finish checking that everything was in her bag. Satisfied, Jules looks up at Ophelia and gives her a warm smile.

“See you tomorrow?”

“You know it. Pizza before recon? Nothing could keep me away,” Ophelia says.

“Great.” Jules pauses for just a second, hand fidgeting against the strap of her bag, before she continues, “Love ya.”

Ophelia can feel herself try to gasp but the air is caught in her chest, which together become some terrible squeak-moan. Her heart starts and stops with no pattern. Her stomach gurgles and she swallows against the nervous swell in her throat. She stares, wide-eyed, at Jules’ patient expression and tries to remember how to be a person again.

  


**__one__**

The first time Ophelia fell in love it was with inked lines on a page. Her mother had dragged her to the opening of a bookstore owned by an old college ‘friend’ Bobbie actually couldn’t stand. Ophelia had been brought as a raising of the pot; “Oh, what a nice bookstore! I’m sure it will provide you with many years of comfort. Oh, yes, this is my daughter Ophelia! Already eight, they grow up so fast. It’s amazing how quickly time goes by, isn’t it? One day we’re 20 and thinking about the future in the abstract, the next we’re mothers. Or bookstore owners, in your case.”

Ophelia walked away from the gaggle of passive-aggressive adults and roamed the aisles. It wasn’t even a good bookstore. It only carried big, boring books on things like the psychosociological decline of morals in western theology, or biographies about architects that died before designing anything. She dragged her fingers across the books, vaguely wondering on whether anyone would touch them again, when her eye caught on a colorful spine decorated with comic book speech bubbles. She pulled it out to see three women on the cover, wearing costumes and their fists upraised. Ophelia plopped down on the floor and flipped through the glossy pages.

She had passed by the page before her mind did a double take and she retraced the pages. She flipped through until she saw what had captured her attention: Night Mistress.

Frankly, it was a wonder that it took Ophelia so long to realize how down she was with going down on ladies. Night Mistress was less of a hint and more of a baseball bat of sexuality. She wore a leotard cut down to the belly button and one of those hideous, 90’s leather jackets that older Ophelia would kill to have in her closet. Her hair was a huge mess of almost-mullet and her mouth always had a hint of a fang.

The book explained that Night Mistress was a partially-turned vampire that stalked the night for the vampires that tried to capture her before realizing she could help people with her powers. The book also talked about how horrible Night Mistress was and what a detriment she was to feminism, but Ophelia was already too far gone. Like a PSA meant to scare parents, one look at the sexy, powerful, and leather-clad antihero and Ophelia was on the path to becoming a bisexual weed dealer with a minor dependency on alcohol and an even more minor fetish for leather.

Ophelia had found her mom and tried to sweetly beg her for the book, playing the part as best she could. Bobbie had laughed and stroked her hair and bought the book after minutes of arguing with the owner about not needing a discount. A begrudging 10% discount later found Ophelia holding the book tight against her chest the whole drive home, heart pounding and not knowing why she felt like she had gotten away with something.

  


**__two__**

Ophelia had met Harris a handful of times before actually getting to know him. They commiserated together over Awful Roomie and her tiny, rodent monsters. She and Harris argue whether it was the fourth or fifth time (it was the fifth and Ophelia will carry that truth with her to the grave) that Harris brought up looking through the student handbook to try and find some loophole in the rules to get rid of the things.

"Need help?" Ophelia had offered.

"Nah, it'll be really boring, I wouldn't want to do that to you," Harris said.

"Please, at this point I'd do almost anything to get them out of my room. I swear they're watching me at night. I keep having nightmares where they escape and eat my toes."

Harris laughed, said, "Well then I'd be glad to get your help on this. We can order pizza?" And Ophelia bounced with joy.

Two days later Ophelia was lying on Harris's bed, her head almost hanging over the side, while Harris sat on the ground next to her.

"So, Midnighter started out as this hero meant to emulate Batman, while his boyfriend was meant to be their psuedo-Superman. But then they get brought in to the actual DC universe! So you have these two allegories for two of the biggest superheroes dating each other, side by side with their originals! Like, they have to know they're essentially confirming that Batman and Superman have something going on, right?" Harris finished, hands a few seconds behind his words, probably from lack of sleep.

"Totally," Ophelia said.

"Thank you!" Harris said, smiling at her. She smiled back, watched the crinkles near his eyes and the way he lit up at being agreed with, and she leaned in.

Harris leaned back, bracing himself against his hand to get far enough away.

"Whoa, there," Harris began while Ophelia backed away. "I mean, uh, you're really cool, Ophelia, but. I just don't think that- that we, you know, would be the best idea."

"Oh," Ophelia replied.

"Yeah," Harris said, rubbing the back of his head and avoiding her eyes.

Ophelia nodded slowly until she wasn't so much nodding as she was bobbing her head to nonexistent music. "Well. This is awkward."

"...Kinda?"

"I guess I should go," she said as she reached out for another slice of pizza.

Harris watched her as she stayed exactly where she was, eating half of the slice in one bite.

"Well, otherwise we'll be humiliated," he said, grinning.

"Oh, I already am!" Ophelia insisted through her full mouth. "Mortified, really. Don't think I'll ever recover."

"Understandable. If you need it I can find you the names of some people who can help."

"Fellow Harris rejectees? Ugh, god no, there's no way I could handle all that. The wailing. The mourning gowns."

"Fair. So, how about a shower?"

"Dude! First you break my heart, and now you comment on a lady's musk? You are the worst gentleman out there. I'm beginning to look at this new, post-Harris-rejected life with new and welcoming eyes. And in any case, it's not only me who hasn't showered for two days."

Harris laughed and she watched the crinkles near his eyes and the way he lit up at being insulted.

"Also, you're totally wrong. Batman has way more romance with The Joker."

Harris made a noise both shocked and furious, and Ophelia smiled at him.

  


**__(404)__**

Somewhere on the list should be coding. Ophelia knows this. It’s the one thing she always had, one of the only things she’s good at, and definitely the one thing that made her who she is. Maybe that’s why it isn’t a love story.

It’s more like Stockholm syndrome, she thinks; stuck together with almost nothing else but a desperate need to be better. Someone stronger, smarter, more than the vague shape of a daughter she keeps getting lost in.

Although maybe that's a harsher way to classify it than it needs to be. Maybe it's more like two people who got married too young and don’t know who they’d be without each other and are too scared to find out.

  


**__two and a half__**

Ophelia had gotten used to Jules and Kennedy's easy declarations of love. Their relationship was built around an easy and eager melding of lives that eventually forged into an unbreakable bond. Ophelia had never understood it, but she was aware she came from a background in which 'I love you's were passive aggressive at best and withheld barbs at worst so. Not exactly the best judge in that corner.

But Ophelia was used to it from an outsider's perspective, like watching Animal Planet. A narrator with a voice like Harris's popping up from the back of her skull and commenting on the unique friendship rituals of sorority girls. She wasn't meant to be a part of it. That's not where she belonged, with Jules standing and waiting, patient and open and sweet and caring and so, so beyond what Ophelia deserved.

She didn't belong anywhere near Jules, who was an actual superhero and only a few feathers short of being an avenging angel. And yeah, that was dramatic, but out of all the things Ophelia was, drama was an essential part of it. Hell, even her primary defense mechanism was vomiting. Nothing about her was subtle, nothing was simple or easy or nice or clean.

At first Ophelia couldn't fit the two sides of Jules together; the vigilante and the sorority baby. There was secret identity and there was mistaken identity and part of Ophelia was waiting for the other shoe to drop since she found the necklace.

And then Ophelia saw Jules cry, freaking out at the horror of death, and then cut off a body's hands and break out the teeth. And then Ophelia saw Jules smile and chirp her hellos and go jogging at ass o'clock AM and then stay up until 4 AM to go recon some dickhead's house. And then Ophelia saw Jules, and everything changed.

  


**__three__**

“Love you, too,” Ophelia croaks out. She doesn’t think she can feel her hands but that doesn’t seem as important as watching Jules smile at Ophelia’s words. Jules turns to go, hesitates, darts back in to press a quick hug that Ophelia only responds to once Jules has let go and is waving goodbye.

Ophelia waves back with the hand left in the air, doesn’t close the door until Jules is long gone.

She sits down at her desk, places her hands on the keyboard, and doesn’t type anything. She stares at her reflection in the black computer screen and doesn't move.

(Somewhere on her computer, next to a folder of Harris's articles and a torrent of every Night Mistress comic, Ophelia has a section for photos of Jules. Most of them are cheesy friend photos; Harris and Jules posing for the camera, Jules and Ophelia with terrible instagram filters on, things like that. Hidden in the middle of the bunch is a photo of just Jules. She's staring down at a textbook with a pencil to her lips and a bruise high on her cheekbone from a training mishap. Ophelia had snapped it while pretending to play with her phone and then been secretly embarrassed for the rest of the day. She thinks she knows now why she had felt like she had gotten away with something.)

**__fin__**


End file.
